Tears leaked down Yseult’s cheeks at the thought of her brother, stinging in the burns.

He’s so far away! He’s our lord but he can’t protect us now!

Then she remembered Huon, her other brother, waiting for battle in Pendleton. What has happened to him? she wondered. Chaka likes Huon; he should be protected, but the Lady Regent . . . How could Mama put us at such a risk!

Romarec left and returned after a time with three large duffel bags; the kind soldiers used to cart their kit to battle. Not the fine wooden trunks that opened into a traveling wardrobe her mother used to travel and visit in Association territories or to visit Court. Romarec picked a pair of tiny scissors—thread nippers—out of the work box and tied the basket up in a large napkin and stuffed it into the third duffel. The scissors she handed to Sir Garrick.

“Good,” said the captain. “Now, attend. Do you know Alex Vinton?”

The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy for a: “Yes, my lord Odar’s valet and manservant.”

“Have you seen him in the last month or so, or even since he left?”

The housekeeper shook her head, but Yseult gasped and burst out, “S-s-s-so tha-tha-that’s who tha-that was!”

Sir Garrick turned and swiftly knelt by her. “Who, when?” he asked urgently.

The hand was still pressing her down and her teeth were chattering as she said: “The man, I, I, I—I—”

Sir Garrick frowned and said, “Let her up, soldier. A glass of water, please, Adolphus.”

The chirurgeon brought the water as Sir Garrick helped her sit. She was trembling now, huge shudders traveling up and down her body as if powerful hands were shaking her. Her teeth chattered against the glass. Adolphus frowned and tilted her head, pulled at her eyelids and pressed her fingernails.

“Shock,” he said. “It’s hot in here, but is there a blanket?”

Romarec pulled one out of the cupboard and brought it over.

“Open the windows. I want air in here, as long as we don’t shock her further with a sudden temperature drop.”

The men silently moved aside and allowed the housekeeper to wrap up Yseult in the blanket. The windows all banged open. Yseult saw relief on the faces of many of the men crowding the stuffy room. The brisk evening air stirred bringing a medley of scents; cook fires, jasmine from the garden, the stables, and an odd thick iron smell.

She saw Sir Garrick nod to an unspoken question from Romarec. The woman settled behind Yseult and hugged her.

Adolphus put the glass to her mouth. “Sips,” he ordered. “Very, very small sips. You are in shock. If you try to gulp, you will choke.”

Yseult sipped, and sipped again. Slowly the shudders settled down. But her tears still ran, stinging her left cheek as they slid over the burns. She saw Sir Garrick’s face, annoyed, but resigned.